Formerly Known as Sunnydale
by daysofinspiration
Summary: Ever wonder what the characters were thinking as the screen faded to black for the last time? The Gang's individual reflections set post Chosen.
1. Xander

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Summary: Individual character thoughts and reflections set during and immediately post Chosen._

_AN: Ever wonder what the characters were thinking as the screen faded to black, the credits rolled and we heard our favourite "Grrr Arrgh" for the last time? Here's my interpretation of what may have been going through their heads during the last scene of Chosen._

_And thanks to my beta _lilfunnymonkey_ for putting up with me asking you to edit this so many times and dealing with my madness while writing this fic. You're awesome._

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me. Nor do I claim to own the movie _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_, _The Gap_, _Starbucks_, _Toys "R" Us_, the song _Wild Horses_ or the band _The Sundays_. I think that covers it all._

**Chapter 1 **–** Xander**

"_All those shops gone. The Gap, Starbucks, Toys "R" Us. Who will remember all those landmarks unless we tell the world about them?"_

Gone. Everything was truly gone. There was nothing there anymore; every single, last bit of the town – blown to pieces. Kaboom: completely and utterly destroyed. Where his whole life once stood there was now… absolutely nothing. An enormous hole in the ground. It was a barren crater, an emptiness that could never be filled again. The town of Sunnydale was gone forever, plain and simple.

True, everything was gone, but at least there was one positive thing to remember when taking into account all the mayhem before them: they'd won. That should count for something, shouldn't it? They beat it; they stopped The First Evil. They crushed the first and most deadly of all evil, the very source of evil. That malicious monster was finally defeated. Months of planning, fighting, injury, and losses… they beat the odds and won. That damned beast was gone for good, locked away somewhere where it couldn't escape. Never again would it threaten to end the world. Never again would an innocent person die because of its incorporeal hands. Never again would blood be shed because that sick bastard willed it.

But this was their prize, their first place metal? This was the gold star on the top of the page that meant a job well done? If this were true, then this wasn't a prize he wanted, this wasn't a prize anybody would want.

He could almost hear the cheery, fake voice over the loud speaker announcing to everyone standing there, "Congratulations, you saved the world. And how will the higher powers be rewarding you, by initiating the destruction of your whole life, of course. Were you expecting anything else? Look behind door number one and see the destruction of your home. Let the sight of it all kill any thoughts you may have had of staying in town a few more years."

Three cheers for the Scoobies, they blew up Sunnydale.

The damage they had caused this time was a whole lot worse than when they'd blown the school the first time around; much, much worse. This time, the high school building wasn't the only place that had suffered the consequences of their battle with The First. Now, the whole town of Sunnydale looked like the beginning of one of his construction sites, just rubble and debris. All around were broken bits of people's homes, of people's lives. A giant crater of nothingness. It could take years before people would be able to live here again. At least last time, it was only the school that had closed down. But this time? All of Sunnydale was closed, possibly for good too.

Welcome to the town of Sunnydale. Population: 32,900 to zero in ten seconds flat. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Could it really all be gone?

Xander had grown up here. He'd spent his whole life in this small, lame-assed, vampire-infested town. But as lame as the place was, everything he knew – the people, places, things – it had all been here. It had always been here. His house, backyard, the corner store, the elementary school, the park, the mall, the grocery store, the movie theatre, the high school – it had all been part of his life. Those were the things he had grown up with and seen every day, and now he would never get to see them again. Those small, trivial, and seemingly insignificant things had been part of his daily life, they were paired with memories and events that had shaped who he was, and who he was going to be. How could they honestly be gone for good?

It was surprising to Xander to discover that he actually cared so much about Sunnydale. He had taken for granted how much of this crummy town was part of him. Sure, it centered on a direct portal to Hell, was a common hangout for bloodsucking vampires, and generally was a magnet and neon-flashing sign for demonic activity, but it was still the place he called home. It was still the place he'd been familiar with and felt safe in. Well, as safe as he could while living on the Hellmouth anyway. This whole place had been his home, his "safe as houses." And now… nothing. Gone.

That word kept bouncing around in his head, like a fly that wouldn't give up when trapped between two pieces of window-glass. The word kept bouncing into the metaphorical glass in his mind, hoping to break free, hoping to make a connection. He couldn't understand the situation he was in, couldn't comprehend the hollow space before him that he was being forced to look at. How could everything he had ever known suddenly just… stop being? How did the sum of his existence be there one minute and be a hollow space in the ground the next? How could it disappear like that? How could the ground swallow up a whole city?

It was all gone.

Xander was numb, both his body and his mind. His whole body was rigid and frozen as he stood there with the rest of the Scooby Gang, looking out at the destruction they had created. He had expected to start hyperventilating at the sight of the crater, but instead his breathing seemed to slow down. Time had slowed to almost a stand still. But his mind wasn't panicking at the shift in time around them; his mind was just as numb as his body.

Thoughts drifted through his head, but didn't seem to be making any connections. He couldn't think straight, couldn't center on a single emotion, couldn't feel or focus on anything. Numb. There was nothing that he or anyone else could say that would make this emotionless state he was in go away. He knew he should feel guilt, pain, sorrow maybe, but he couldn't feel anything. His mind was frozen, his eyes fixated on the scenery he knew he should be seeing, but wasn't, because it wasn't there anymore. Never _would_ be there anymore.

Even though he couldn't focus on anything in particular there was still something happening inside his head. Deep inside Xander's mind memories were flickering behind his eyelids, as if a movie was stuck on fast-forward and the remote control was lost. There was no way to find a stop button to make the memories go away and let him come out of this numb and confusing state.

Memories, both good and bad, shot through his head at break-neck speeds, barley pausing long enough for Xander to register what they were before they were replaced by another. And another. And another. It was like his mind was trying to relive every moment of his life all at once. It was turning his whole life into one instantaneous moment of sights, sounds and smells. Initiate sensory overload.

Was everything honestly and truly gone, once and for all? Never to return again?

The images were getting faster and faster as they flew through his brain. They were becoming more and more jumbled and overlapped until he could barely tell where one memory ended and another began. Dimly he thought of the movie _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_, a movie he had always loved as a kid. Working in a candy factory? It was every ten year old boy's dream. He thought of the scene where the characters are riding in a boat down the chocolate river, and images are flickering on the cave walls next to them. Scary, creepy images that didn't completely make sense. That was similar to what his mind was doing, flipping from one image to the next. It was fast, blurred, unexplained explosions of colour and sound. Too much for him to focus on at once.

How could everything actually be gone?

Yet, as the memories kept coming, flicking past one after another, something stayed constant. Mixed in with all the recollections of his old life in Sunnydale was something simple but apparently significant to him: the Sunnydale High School library. There was something about that place that tugged at Xander's heart. Up until his sophomore year, Alexander LaVelle Harris had barely spent more than ten minutes in any library, much less the one in the school.

Then suddenly, when Buffy Summers literally smacked right into him on her first day at the high school, it was as if his life started over. When her bag had gone flying and her things scattered all over the hallway floor, it was like the same thing happened to his life. His old life had scattered, but what he'd picked up afterwards was something worth so much more. Being a devoted Slayerette had given his life purpose, given it meaning. He wasn't simply Xander Harris anymore; he was part of something much bigger. He was suddenly part of the fight to save the world from the forces of darkness.

And he had to admit, that was pretty awesome.

Specifically, that fight against evil had centered for them at the school library. Research, training, meetings, hanging out, lunches, after school, before school, during classes even, planning, eating, the occasional sleeping, and even some major demon slayage – it had all occurred at the school's library. Their Scooby-family had centered in that room for almost three years. That had been his life, and it had been a good one.

But it was all gone now, gone without one last farewell.

Again, he had taken it for granted. Just like Sunnydale itself, the library had been a big part of him. In truth, it had been a really, really big part of all of them. Sure, at the time high school had been composed of never-ending vampire and demon slaying and apocalypse-stopping mixed in with trying to pass their classes and figuring out what to do with their lives, but that was cake compared to what they'd just faced. Xander honestly missed stopping by the library before class started and getting a recap of what vamps or other-worldly nasties Buffy had slayed during her patrol of the town the night before. The fun, easy-going way they had been when they were teenagers was gone. It was terminated, kind of like Sunnydale was.

He was standing there, looking at the ruins of his former home, and the thing he missed was the school library? Strange, but it was true. And it wasn't just the physical building that he missed, but all that it had represented. That sense of family, of belonging, of vampire ass-kicking. It had been a second home to Xander. That one room, stuffed full of books, computers and weapons and centered on the mouth to Hell; it had been a true home to him. It was a better home than his parent's house ever was. He'd only lived there; but he'd been part of something at the library. And now, when everything he had ever known was obliterated, he realized he really missed that stuffy old place.

Stupid amulet. Stupid First. Stupid apocalypse.

Sure, their Scooby meetings hadn't taken place there for years, not since graduation left the high school an empty shell of a building. But that essence of the library, the Scooby Headquarters, had stayed with them even after the school went boom. First it had transferred to Giles' apartment, then to The Magic Box, and finally it moved to the Summers' home. But the library had always, in a sense, been there. It changed, it wasn't what it used to be, but it was still there. Or, maybe they had been the ones to change, not acknowledging that it was still with them. Either way, it had been there, always. Waiting for them to wake up and smell the vampire dust.

Too bad it was gone now.

Early, early mornings full of caffeinated beverages and research parties, late evenings full of planning their attacks on the current Big Bad, endless hours of being the only ones that occupied the place – that was what Xander missed right now. He longed for that sense of family they had created. It had been so easy then, just a group of friends trying to save the world. The library had brought them together and made them a family. It had made their fighting worthwhile, gave it meaning and reason.

Why hadn't they realized that sense of family had always been there, even when the library wasn't? Why had they let a part of it die with the school? They may not have noticed it right away, but they'd begun to fall apart the moment the school was blown to pieces. And they hadn't tried to stop the process, just denied it was happening. Xander could see that now, they had all been in denial. All through Buffy and Willow's stay at university, Giles' mid-life crisis and Xander's own dive into the work-force, they'd been forcing themselves to act like a family, instead of letting it come naturally they way it had in the library.

Lately, their family had been put to the test. The last few years it seemed like they were living on autopilot. Loyalties had been tested, promises broken, hearts betrayed, and when it seemed like they were giving up, like they were finally giving in, they had somehow managed to come together again. It hadn't been the same as before, but at least they were trying. Buffy was somewhat herself again, not the emotionless shadow of a girl she'd been when they first pulled her out of Heaven. Willow was slowly recovering from losing Tara and from losing control of her magic, and she was gaining her confidence back. Dawn was growing up before their eyes and proving she could take care of herself and stake a few vamps in the process; she wasn't the tag-along teenage sister she'd been a few years ago. Giles was back from England, and he and Buffy were slowly forging each other for what happened between them. And he and Anya were… trying. She'd forgiven him and they were gradually getting back to where they had been before.

Anya. The two of them had a connection Xander would never be able to explain. He'd never loved anyone the way he'd loved Anya, and assumed he never would again. In Xander's opinion, love like that only came around once in a lifetime. The love he and Anya had shared had been rare and beautiful.

And now she was gone too.

Xnader knew he would never forgive himself for leaving her on their wedding day, never forgive himself for the fear and doubts he'd let get the better of him. He had broken her heart and deserved every bit of anger she had towards him, but he had never stopped loving her. Not by a long shot.

The connection the two of them had ran so deep that even when they weren't together anymore they couldn't deny it was there. The night they'd shared over the carton of ice cream would remain one of the best memories Xander had. It hadn't meant they were back together, but they had both acknowledged their feelings and were working towards being _something_ again. Not friends, not lovers, but something.

She would always be his Anya, the beautiful girl who'd always been there for him. Xander had loved watching her sleep, when her blonde hair made a perfect halo around her head. He had loved watching her laugh, because her laugh was infectious and never failed to make him smile. And even though it was awkward at times, he loved how blunt and truthful she was. Sometimes it was amusing, having to cover her mouth to keep her from saying something others didn't want or need to hear, or reminding her not to talk about their sex life in public.

One of the things he loved most about her was her love of dance. In her hundreds of years as a vengeance demon, one thing she had picked up was rhythm. Xander remembered how sometimes she would insist he take her on real dates, where they could go dancing. Even their first real connection had involved dancing, when they'd gone to the Prom together. Sure, most of the night they had stood together awkwardly, him listening to stories of how she had charred this guy and snake-afied that guy. But eventually they had agreed to one dance together. He remembered her saying, "This isn't bad" as they slow danced to The Sunday's Wild Horses. Outwardly, Anya seemed uncomfortable as they swayed to the gentle music, but he knew she secretly loved it. That was where it all started, dancing together at Sunnydale High.

And that was where it had ended too.

She had died a hero though. She died trying to save the world. And that seemed fitting somehow. Anya said she never fully understood the human world, didn't understand all the emotions humans experienced. But she was a fighter, and it was right that she died fighting for what she believed in. It hurt, knowing she was gone, like something was trying to claw its way out through his chest. But knowing that she died a hero helped the pain, if only the smallest fraction of a bit. Andrew said she died saving him, and as much as it ripped him apart, Xander knew it was the best way she could have died. That was Anya; his dramatic, heroic, fun-loving Anya.

If Xander had asked her that night of the Prom how she would have liked to die, if she'd had the choice, Xander didn't know how she would have answered. Something witty, for sure. But she had changed since then. She had become human, fallen in love with him, and died saving the world. Her death was a poetic, heroic one.

Xander was a changed man because of her, and knowing that she had loved him meant a lot. In the end they had been working on forgiving each other. It was a hard, slow, painful process, but she was worth it. Anya had been more than worth it. She would always be more than worth it.

It hurt, knowing she was gone. It hurt more than Xander felt he could take. He had loved her and now she was gone, really and truly gone. Now, all that remained of her was what was in his heart, his memories of her.

If The First hadn't already been defeated, Xander was ready to pummel it to pieces, barehanded. Anya's death, as well as all the deaths and destruction over the last few months, were because of The First. Just as they were beginning to become the Scoobies again, to trust and love each other once more, this perverted monster comes along and tips everything upside down. It convinced them there was nothing they could do, no way to defeat it.

And yet, they had. They'd saved the world from the apocalypse, again. Maybe now they could start over, try and bring things back to the way things used to be. Not the same, nothing would ever be the same again, but they could try. But maybe things could go back to those simple library days, where they had become a true family.

Xander knew it would never be exactly like it had been in high school, that their sense of family would never come to them that easy again. But it could be close. They could be the Scooby Gang once again and save the world from vampires, demons, and anything else that stood in their way.

Yeah, that'd be nice.


	2. Willow

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me. And as you may have guessed, I don't own _Wile E Coyote_, _Road Runner_,__ or the _Road Runner_ cartoons._

**Chapter 2 – Willow**

"_Yeah. The First is scrunched, so… what do you think we should do, Buffy?"_

It was sunny out, ridiculously so. Always sunny in Sunnydale, that's what the proverbial "they" always said. But at the moment that once happy phrase cut like a knife, digging deeper into the already existing wound. It was like the sun was purposely shining extra bright, just to spite them. It made everything seem clearer; exposed every inch of the giant crater that used to be their home. The sun left nothing in shadow. It lit up the big pit of destruction in front of them like a movie set.

Except it wasn't a movie set. It was the end of the apocalypse and this was what was left of their home.

Everything was so bright, so painfully and unnecessarily bright. All the annihilation was ultra clear, as if someone was holding up a magnifying glass; the sun showing the world the destruction they had caused, pointing out their faults. All they could see for miles was wreckage; they were surrounded by it. They had won, but this was the price they had to pay.

There was a vapid sense that surrounded them. Aside from the crater they were completely surrounded by desert; an empty, bland, California desert. There was nothing around them anymore, just the desert, the crater, and the sky and sun above them. But for all they knew, this _was_ all that was there. The far wall of the crater could be an illusion; the bottom of the crater could stretch out so far that their eyes mistook it as curving back up the far wall when in fact it just kept going. The massive hole in the ground could stretch out for miles; it could circle around and completely surround them. The whole world could be destroyed save this small patch of desert, and they wouldn't even know. Now, the world really could be like centuries old explorers perceived it to be, not circular but completely flat. They could walk out in any direction, and eventually come to the drop-off of the canyon; they could fall off and keep falling.

How deep down did it go? They had destroyed the demon's gateway to Hell, yes, but had they in the process made the layer separating Hell from Earth smaller? Had they destroyed the Hellmouth but made it easier for demons to escape their fiery prison.

She shouldn't be thinking about that. No, don't think about the possibility for demons to escape from Hell. Think happier thoughts. Just think about the massive hole that stretched on for eternity, the immense hole where their home used to stand…

Willow knew her composure was breaking. She tried to hold back, but the longer she looked at the scene before her, the more the tears welling-up behind her eyes threatened to fall. She looked up, blinking back the tears, but looking to the sky for answers was no better. The painful light of the sun seemed like it was trying to breach the dam, spark her tears into falling. It continued to shine brightly overhead, causing her to squint in the intense light and making the bland, empty sky before her even harder to look at. But the well of emptiness was alluring; she couldn't look away from it for too long, she had to look back. Pulling up her resolve she fought back the tears even harder and turned away from the sky to look out again at the scene that seemed more like something out of a movie than something real.

There was so much destruction, so much nothingness. The world had been drained of anything colourful and cheerful, and what remained were the colours of despair, guilt, and sadness. The colours left reflected nothing of their old life, just pain, loss, and desperation.

The sand on the side of the road was dreary beige in colour. The dirt of the crater walls was a mix of muddy browns, bleak greys, and diluted reds. It even seemed like the usually bright azure sky was dulled in colour because of the emptiness encircling them. In contrast to the dullness was the highway, a razor-sharp scar on the barren landscape. It painfully cut into the desert and stretched forever-on in one direction – a harsh, black colour amid the dullness – and came to a jagged halt in the other direction where it met the edge of the small canyon. All that remained before them filled only a small section of the spectrum, there was no more colour. All the once bright colours of the city had collapsed and bled into each other when the ground caved-in.

How was it that all of Sunnydale could fit inside that crater? Sure, the town wasn't immensely populated, it wasn't a major city, but how was it possible for so much to… turn into nothing so fast? How could there be nothing left? How was it possible for her home to suddenly become a hole in the ground? Something wasn't right; it was some kind of cruel practical joke. The city was still there. Someone had simply covered it up, that was all. It was like something out of those _Road Runner_ cartoons she watched when she was younger, where Wile E. Coyote paints over a big canvas and covers up the canyon wall behind it, so the Road Runner would run into it. That had to be it. This was all some kind of illusion; someone had merely taken a brown crayon and scribbled over the colours that lay beneath until all that remained was a muddy mess. Sunnydale was still there; it had to be.

Right now Willow felt like she was in one of those cartoons. She was trapped with no way out; there was no path she could find that would bring her back to reality. No road that would lead her home again. And there was no home for her to go back to. The barrenness of the surroundings was creeping into her brain, threatening to make her a part of the big empty before her.

Her mind was trying it's hardest to fight back, trying to find a way back to reality. Her brain was trying to find something to grasp onto, a ledge where she could hook her mental fingers, a way for her to calculate the amount of damage she was looking at and rationalize it. She needed an explanation. She wasn't going to believe what she saw until she had logical reasoning for it. There was always an answer. She hadn't found it yet, but there was no need to panic. Her brain simply needed to mull over it a little while longer. Then she'd figure it out. This couldn't be all that was left, it couldn't be.

But a voice at the back of Willow's mind spoke up. What if it was? Was this all that was left? Was this really all that was left of Sunnydale? A crater? It looked so empty, so… void of life.

Life. There was none of that before them. Not now, not ever again. The ground had swallowed everything up, starting from the high school and spiralling out until it had devoured the entire city. It was a spiral of destruction creating a well of pure emptiness. And it meant that everyone who hadn't left during the exodus of Sunnydale was buried under all the rubble.

This was an emergency. This was not a situation where magic, the Slayer, her Watcher, or The Powers That Be could help; this was more extreme. This was a real life, real world emergency. The ground had caved in, homes were demolished and there was the possibility of trapped, injured, and killed people. From when a police officer had first spoken to her kindergarten class Willow had known what to do in an emergency. Not an emergency such as this, because how often did the ground implode and swallow the whole city, but she still knew what they needed to do. Willow's inner-child spoke up now as her mind tumbled through its panic, reminding her of what had been drilled into her head from a young age. Someone should call the police. It didn't happen often, but every so often the Scoobies knew when government officials, usually hospital workers, were needed. And now was such a case; they needed to call the police.

She didn't think any of them had a cell phone, but maybe they could find one. Or maybe a payphone. That was it; they could find a payphone. They were on the side of a highway, there had to be a payphone somewhere nearby.

It was necessary they find a phone. People needed to be informed. Important people. Rescue-like people. The police, the fire department, the hospital staff and the paramedics; they needed people who were trained to know what to do in a situation like this.

How could someone be trained for a situation like this? A whole city: gone. How do you respond to that? What do you do? How are people expected to react? What do you do when your home becomes a large ditch in the landscape?

Willow really hoped that no one had been killed when the ground went belly-up. She clung to the idea that everyone had already left. It had to be; everyone must have left before the Scoobies went into the final battle. Who besides them would be crazy enough to stay? She knew the people of Sunnydale were either clueless or in denial, but no one could deny what was happening there these last few months. Everyone knew something bad was happening, and Willow hoped no one besides them had stayed behind.

She didn't want to picture someone being crushed by a collapsing house or trapped in a car as the surrounding buildings caved in. Dead… or worse, someone could be lying under the wreckage, waiting for death. Someone could be trapped there, bleeding, waiting, and praying for the pain to be over. Praying for the suffering to end, praying for rescue or death.

And she didn't want to think about all the wildlife that had been killed. Animals had stronger senses of intuition then humans did. Surely they were all alive, well, and not here. She refused to let her brain think about the number of animals that may not have migrated when they felt the battle with The First beginning a few months ago. She didn't want to imagine the bodies of rubble-crushed birds, raccoons, squirrels, dogs, cats… No, she wouldn't think about that; no picturing dead puppies.

Willow tried to hold back the shiver that threatened to creep up her spine. They really should call the police. They needed to send rescue teams, search dogs, helicopters, anything they could to help…

Willow herself wanted to help, desperately so. She needed to search, to do something useful instead of just standing here looking at the devastation all around her. She couldn't believe the thought as it came to her, but it was true. The idea of standing idly by stabbed at something within her. A primal part of her was frantic with need to go down into the crater of her home and search for anything that had survived; anything of _theirs_ that had survived. They hadn't taken much into the final battle, only the necessary weapons and first aid equipment. Some of them hadn't even believed they'd make it out alive. Almost everything they owned had stayed at the house at 1630 Revello Drive. And now it was all gone.

They hadn't known they wouldn't be able to go back. _She_ hadn't known she wouldn't be able to go back. She needed to go back. There was no question about it; she _needed_ to go back. Nothing of her old life remained. There was nothing physical she could hold onto, nothing to keep her grounded. No books, no clothes, no pictures… they truly had nothing now. She needed to go down and try to find something to latch onto, to prove that what she was seeing before her wasn't true.

But she still had her memories though, right? She'd spent all her life in Sunnydale; surely she had memories, plenty of things she could hold onto. She didn't need physical substance to know who she was, did she? Memories could be enough. Memories of a happier life, of friends, family, joy, love, laughter… memories of Tara.

Tara. Her soul mate. That struck a chord in her heart. Looking out over the wreck of her home, Willow knew that what she wanted most of all was that headstone. She needed to find a way down into the crater, find that one cemetery among dozens, that one stone among hundreds, and find _her_ headstone. It was the only part of Tara that had remained after her death.

That was what hurt the most for the redhead; it made her heart shatter into an infinite number of tiny pieces. Tara had been ripped away from her once before, cruelly murdered before her eyes, but pieces of her had remained after her death. Willow still had pictures of when the two of them were together, still had some of the other Wicca's clothes, she had the jewellery and trinkets Tara had bought, and had some of the magical items she had used while she was casting. But mostly, Willow had the headstone. That polished bit of rock engraved with a few simple words had marked where Tara's body lay beneath the ground.

For Willow, it was the only real link to Tara. It marked her final resting place, guarded over it. It protected Tara and kept her body safe. It assured Willow that her love was in a better place. It was constantly there when the redhead visited the gravesite; was there to lean against when the tears came, for they always came. When she sat in front of that headstone, Willow pictured she was sitting in front of Tara. As her fingers traced over the engraved words, she pictured running her fingers through the brunette's silky hair. When she spoke softly to it, she pictured herself talking to Tara, telling the other girl what was happening in the world, the latest demon they had defeated, how much she missed her…

Now, even that had been taken away from her. Willow didn't know if it was possible for her heart to break any further.

That headstone had been the only real part of Tara left. How could Willow go on without it? Without Tara? The love in her heart had been ripped to pieces and what remained was like shards of broken glass. And now even those pieces were gone, swept away with the breeze created when the earth caved in. Swept away without her control.

Willow wasn't strong. She never had been. She was intelligent, trustworthy, a powerful witch maybe, but she had never been strong. That had been proven when Tara died, when Willow lost the minimal control she had over her magic. When Willow held her lover's lifeless body in her arms, blood soaking through her shirt and tears streaming down her cheeks, nothing else had mattered. The one thing she had cared about most in the world had been brutally taken from her, and the control over her power had gone with it.

Yet slowly, ever so slowly, Willow had tried to put the broken pieces of her life back together. She tried to build around the gaping hole in her chest. It wasn't the same as it had been before, it could never be the same as before, but she'd gotten part of it back. She was gradually learning how to live again. She was becoming accustomed to the pain. The tug at her heart every time she walked into her empty bedroom was familiar now. Every morning when she walked into the kitchen and didn't find Tara making pancakes was accompanied by a small frown. She was used to the tingle of threatening tears whenever she woke up in the morning and Tara wasn't lying next to her. She'd lost her soul mate, and was slowly learning to live with the pain.

But Willow didn't think she'd be able to do that all over again. She wasn't sure she had the strength to endure the pain of losing Tara once more.

After spending months in England, learning to control her power, Willow had finally decided to come back to Sunnydale and face what had happened. She had finally begun to accept the painful truth that Tara truly was gone forever. And after being in town for a few days she had gone to the cemetery to see the headstone, as if to finalize everything. That had been one of the worst moments of her life. It would forever be one of the hardest things she had to go through.

Having to whisper to her dead love and explain that even though Tara hadn't wanted Willow to abuse her magic, had tried to prevent it, it was in essence Tara that had caused it to happen. It had hurt so much to admit that she had lost control of her magic because of Tara's death, had been sucked in and almost let it destroy her and everyone around her. That moment of admitting her weakness and failure to Tara had killed Willow inside.

During her stay at the Coven the fact that Tara was really gone hit Willow over and over again, like wave upon wave of the pounding water of a sea-storm. It had been agonizing, flashing back to that horrible moment each time she closed her eyes, being forced to remember that she hadn't been able to save the brunette. All her nightmares were the same. At first the two of them were in a state of bliss: Tara standing by the window watching Buffy and Xander make-up after their fight, Willow laughing and talking to the brunette, simply basking in the fact that they had forgiven each other and were together again. A sudden, loud, unexplained explosion of sound. Then the blood begins to seep through Tara's shirt, the spray of it hitting Willow. Tara's confused look at the blood-spatter covering Willow and whispered words of "your shirt." Then the horrible, painful moment as Willow was forced to stand and watch as her girlfriend fell to the ground. In her dreams, she was never able to move across the room fast enough, never able to save her love. She was forced to watch, over and over, as the life drained from Tara's beautiful blue eyes. With an agonizing cry Willow would wake from the nightmares. Every time she would look frantically around the dark and unfamiliar room, tangled in the bed sheets and drenched in a cold sweat. She'd open her eyes wide, then tightly squeeze them shut, desperately trying to block the memories. Then numbly, she'd wrap her arms around her knees, tears would slowly slide down her cheeks, and she'd hope that maybe in the morning the pain would be a little bit easier to endure.

But despite the terrible nightmares, during her stay in England there had never been any physical proof. There had been pain, so much pain, but no real proof that her girlfriend was gone. All the evidence had stayed in Sunnydale when Willow left. But stepping up to that stone after being away for so long, Willow had been terrified. The pain she'd felt when she held her bleeding lover during her dying moments had come back ten-fold.

Standing here right now though, looking out over the nothingness, Willow would give anything for that pain again. She'd suffer a million times through the pain if it meant she could have that headstone with her again, if she could feel it and imagine being with Tara once more. She had finally accepted that Tara couldn't come back to her, but she couldn't accept that the only surviving part of the brunette couldn't come back either.

Willow knew it was irrational, that the others wouldn't understand if she voiced it, but that was what she needed most right now. Not a hug, not a smile, not a cheer that said, "Hey, look, we won." Looking at the giant crater of destruction before her, the void where her home should be, Willow knew she would miss Tara's headstone the most.

That piece of rock always brought on a wave of tears. That piece of rock continuously reminded her of her lowest moments. That cold, hard, sharp piece of rock never failed to remind her of what she had lost, of the love she hadn't been able to save. But she missed it. She missed the only link she had left to Tara. Willow hadn't realized it all those times when she was sitting alone in the cemetery with it, but that headstone represented more than she had ever known.

That was always the case though, wasn't it? You never realize how much it means to you until it's gone.


	3. Faith

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me. Do I really need to say that I don't own the dog food brand _Kibbles 'n Bits_?_

_Author's Note: Reviews are always nice. Pretty please?_

**Chapter 3 **–** Faith**

"_Yeah, you're not the one and only Chosen anymore. Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?"_

Damn, that was a big crater. Who knew little old Sunnyhell was actually that big? Sure, it was marked on a map, which was more than she could say for some of the places she'd been, but it had never seemed _that_ big. Now though, they could look across the abyss and see the other side of the city limits. Not something you could do in your average town.

Then again, had Sunnydale _ever_ been your average place to live?

The answer to that would have to be a big, whopping "no." Possibly with flashing red lights.

Faith stood there along with everyone else and looked out over the crater. This place had meant a lot to the Scoobies, and she knew they were all mourning its painful loss in their own way. Some of them would stay quiet and close down, some would try to hold back their tears, and some would just stand there and try to understand it all.

But it wasn't like that for Faith. She stood among them, but instead of feeling part of something, she felt more separated from them. It intensified the feeling she'd had when she'd first arrived in town a few years ago, she was on the outside again. During the fight for and during the fall of Sunnydale she had felt like a real member of the Scooby Gang. Not just an honorary member, someone who fought with them once and then never again. No, that had been her back when she first came to Sunnydale. But when she stood back to back with Buffy, slicing über-vamps right and left, she felt like she was one of them.

But now, a brick wall seemed to go up and divide them, and she was on the other side. The lonely side.

She felt as if she were intruding on something private, something that wasn't hers. It was like Sunnydale had died, and everyone here was attending the funeral service. Faith was there too, payin' her respects, but she hadn't really known the deceased, didn't have the personal attachment the others did. Sunnydale hadn't really been home to her, and she felt like she was overstepping a boundary by being here. And generally where the Scoobies were concerned, overstepping boundaries either left you decapitated, impaled with a wooden stake, or in her case, in a coma.

But the good old 'dale was their home. Through thick and thin, it had always been there. Faith guessed none of them had ever even entertained the idea it _wouldn't_ always be there. Faith knew she hadn't. Sunnydale was a constant, something that didn't change. The demons changed, the situations were different, and the battle wounds were new, but Sunnydale was still Sunnydale. None of them, including Faith, ever thought there would be a time when it wasn't there.

It was something important to the Scoobies, and they were trying to deal with its loss. From the look on their faces, she could tell it hurt a lot to see destruction where their home should be. For some of them, she bet it hurt like a fuckin' freight train ploughing into them.

But Faith herself didn't know what to feel, didn't know what to do. Good ol' Sunnyhell had never really been a home to her; it was more like somewhere she was trying to pass through. Trying to pass through but kept getting pulled back to by some external force. She didn't have the emotional attachment the others did, and she felt awkward standing among them while they were so upset. They were all so vulnerable right now, and she was like the klutzy kid with big feet. One wrong step and she would end up makin' their pain even worse.

It didn't feel right to trespass on this moment. To her, it was just some place that didn't exist anymore. If it had been any other place blown to Kibbles 'n Bits because of Spike's amulet, she'd shrug her shoulders and keep moving along. Faith had learned at a young age not to get too attached to anything. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.

It wasn't like she didn't feel anything for the loss of the Scooby's hometown, she did. She felt horrible about it, guilty that the Scoobies were involved in the town's destruction, even if it hadn't been intentional and they had been trying to save the world. She sympathized with everyone who had lost their home, their belongings, and their old life. And she hurt for anyone who lost someone during this battle with The First. Her heart went out to those who lost something, but she hadn't lost anything, not really, so she couldn't completely empathize with the pain they might be in.

She felt like she was imposing on a private moment, and didn't know whether she should go or stay.

She settled on remembering some of the good times she and the mouth to Hell had shared together. Overall, Sunnydale had been good to her. It was true, the first time around she had lived in a dingy motel room that she was sure was a breeding ground for some sort of microscopic nasty. Not a home, but it had still been a place to live. And once the Mayor had taken her in, he had gotten her a real apartment. Her own place, complete with working electricity, heating, cable, and it actually met health and safety standards, which was always a plus. That had been nice. It hadn't lasted, what with the fight with B and the resulting coma, but it had been nice for the time being.

And even though she and Buffy didn't always get along, Faith had to admit that she and the blonde had made some kind of connection. She wouldn't go as far as to call the two of them friends; she would like to, but wasn't sure how Buffy'd feel about it. She'd hurt the other Slayer, and B hadn't gotten over it yet. Not that she blamed the blonde. Faith had held a knife to Willow, poisoned Angel, and tried to kill B. And then there was the minor detail of Faith trying to take over the blonde's life while Buffy herself was carted off across the pond by the Council's vicious lap dogs.

When it was all added up, Faith would have been surprised if Buffy _had_ forgiven her so easily. She knew she was a train-wreck for screwing up just about everything, and knew that by now she was past the point of forgiveness. B tolerated her, accepted that the brunette was not there to cause trouble, and seemed to push back any anger she had towards Faith. They had the world to save, and their quasi-hate relationship was put on the back burner. The past was ignored or forgotten, but not completely forgiven.

But despite their history, there was a time when the two of them kicked major demon ass when they patrolled together. She missed that, having the Slayer connection with B, being able to feel what the other girl was going to do, fightin' in-sync. It hadn't lasted for long – Faith had royally screwed up – but it had still been an amazing feeling; knowing that she wasn't completely alone in the world, knowing that someone was watching her back as she dove headfirst into a nest of vamps. It was one of the closest things to a friendship Faith had ever had.

This time around though, things on the Hellmouth had been different. Faith could tell right off the bat that every one of the original Scooby Gang had changed, had hardened somehow. It had only taken Faith a few years of living with her waste-of-space mother to get to that place, to be able to push everything away and not let it affect her. But now she could see it reflected in the eyes of the blonde Slayer and her friends. Faith had wondered about it when she'd first gotten to Sunnydale. How they could go and get so worked up after dustin' a vamp? Back then they hadn't been able to set their emotions aside and deal with reality with that special detachment. They hadn't been able to look at death without getting upset.

But Faith had been able to do that. She'd reached that place long ago and had never been able to truly come back from it. That was why she'd felt she made such a good Slayer. She had seen the shit the world could throw at you long before she'd seen the demons lurking in the shadows. She'd grown up in that crap apartment with her drunken and abusive mother, always wondering if the power would go out because her mother had skipped on the rent. She'd seen the string of men her mother had brought home, seen how the woman had all-but prostituted herself to them. She had seen exactly what her mother had become, always strung out on drugs and smashed on cheap alcohol. She'd especially been there for all the beatings the drunken and half-crazed woman felt were necessary.

Faith had seen how people you trust could turn on you in a flash and how people you love could leave you without a second thought. She had lived through all that shit long before she'd become the Slayer. And when she had been Chosen, killing demons didn't seem to faze her. She could take all the anger she had at the world and focus it on slaying the nasties that went bump in the night. She'd learned to push her pain away; that was how she had survived so long.

She didn't think the Scoobies would ever get to that place. The way Faith figured it, they fought together, not alone the way she had. When things got tough, they didn't need to turn away. They could go and talk to each other about their problems, comfort each other. That was what friends did, wasn't it? But while Faith had been in prison, serving her time, something had really changed the Scoobies. Maybe it was B dying and coming back, or maybe it was Mrs. S's death that had rattled them, but something had hardened them. They weren't the fun-loving, mushy-gushy bunch she'd met a few years ago. Or maybe guarding the Hellmouth had finally caught up to them, and they'd finally seen too much. Either way, they didn't react to the bad stuff the way they used to. Now, they just put on a tough face and went into battle. Faith could see that it scared the Potentials, made them nervous that Buffy seemed so detached from them; but the blonde Slayer and her Slayerettes got the job done. Didn't waste time cryin' anymore.

That tag-team Slayer duo she and B had been a few short years ago was no more. And although Faith figured a big part of that was due to what had happened between them on that roof four years ago, part of it was due to Buffy detaching herself from battle. These last few months had been about fighting for survival, not fighting for style.

That was where she and B were different. Faith had always had a spunkier side, a harder shell. When she fought, she didn't calculate her moves, didn't analyze what was going on. When Faith was fighting a bloodsucker she let herself get lost in it and let her inner-Slayer take over. It gave her a high, fightin' for the fun of it. Buffy had never been like that. B planned, calculated, and looked for weaknesses. Faith just reacted, plain and simple. With her it was all, "fist coming towards face, duck, move fast and swing hard with a mean left hook, punch coming towards stomach, block and jump back, see an opening, lunge, pounce and pin to the ground, dust 'em." Sure, B's way seemed smarter, actually planning how to take down the enemy instead of hoping for a lucky break, but how many times had Faith died? Yes, she'd _almost_ died once or twice, and had landed a coma a few times now – once after the fight with B on the roof, again in L.A. when she used the Orpheus drug to stop Angellus, and a third time if her little stint of unconsciousness after the sewers attack counted as a coma. But she hadn't winked out for good. And B had, more than once.

Thinking about how different she and Buffy were, Faith realized something. Maybe there was a reason why when the two of them were together it was like two negative charges on a battery pushin' back on each other. An explanation as to why they couldn't truly be friends, never fully get along. Maybe there was a reason behind why they seemed to constantly be at each other's throats. They were _both_ the Slayer. By definition, there was only supposed to be one: "One girl in all the world, she alone will blah blah blah." She and B shouldn't exist as the Slayer at the same time, so maybe that was why they sometimes mimicked mad dogs in a pit. Made sense to Faith.

And on top of that, there was another reason B and Faith could never truly get along. That reason was B herself. The blonde was constantly putting Faith in her place, proving she was only the second best Slayer. Buffy was Queen of the Slayers. Faith came second, always did and forever would.

But realistically, shouldn't Faith be the leader? Buffy _had _been the Slayer, but then she'd gone and gotten herself killed. That had led to Kendra, and then to Faith. Technically Faith was the active Slayer, the one whose death would eventually Call the next girl. When Buffy died saving the Pipsqueak from that Hell God, she hadn't activated another Slayer. Buffy kept coming back, but she no longer held the Slayer line. She was part of it, a big, "I've seen more nasties and dusted more vamps then you ever will" part, but she wasn't at the point end anymore.

Despite this, B was still the leader. It was just who she was. She'd been the Slayer longer, had the most experience, and had the backing of her friends. Faith was just some messed-up girl with superpowers who proved she could either help or hinder a situation given the option.

It wasn't like Faith wanted to be the leader though; they had all seen how that scenario ended, as a literal dead end. The Potentials liked her better; she didn't yell at them and didn't tell them what to do. She was the Cool Slayer whereas B came off as the Hard-Ass Slayer. So it seemed natural that they'd rebel against Buffy and want her for their leader instead. Faith hadn't wanted that responsibility, she knew she couldn't handle it. But Buffy had walked out, and Faith was the only other Slayer around. She was not going to leave them without a general, and she wasn't going to let the Scoobies try and co-lead. So she'd stepped up…and fallen flat on her ass.

She had gone and gotten herself and some of the Potentials blown up; killed some of them even. It had been a trap, yes; the bomb had been planted by those damn Bringers. But heading down into those sewers had still been Faith's decision. She was responsible. She wasn't a leader; she didn't have that special _it_ like B did. The only reason the Potentials had voted Buffy off the island was because she was hard on them and Faith wasn't. B could keep the position of alpha-Slayer; Faith was content with following B's lead.

Being second best was hard, but she didn't have what it took to be leader. Then again, B hadn't either, not when she'd first become the Slayer. She'd learned as she went. Maybe, now that The First was done for, Faith could learn to be a leader too. Maybe she and B could put all this shit behind them and try to co-exist as two parts of the same Slayer. They could both try to be the "one girl in all the world."

But they'd changed that too, hadn't they? Red had worked her witchy mojo and now all the Potentials were Slayers. There would never be _just one_ anymore. Like Red said, all over the world, girls were suddenly waking up and realizing what power they held. Faith wasn't sure what Buffy, Giles or any of the other Scoobies' plan involved, - if they even had one – but Faith felt it should involve finding all those newbie Slayers. Faith could remember how she'd felt when she'd been Called, all that power, bubbling up at once. It had been wonderfully incredible and completely unbearable at the same time. But her Watcher had been there to help her through those intense first moments as the Chosen One. These girls wouldn't have that. Who knew what they'd do when they realized their power? Some would abuse it, that was a for sure. There was a time when Faith herself had done it, been the rogue Slayer, why wouldn't some of these girls do it too? 'Specially if there was no on around to tell them not to. Waking all the Potential Slayers had been a good idea at the time, but in hindsight they should have thought it through a bit more. Was the world ready for hundreds of super-powered vampire-fighting machines?

Probably not.

But that wasn't what they should be focusing on at the moment; that was something that could be saved for a few days from now when they were itching for something to do. Right now, they should be tryin' to find a hospital, not standing around mourning the loss of the Hellmouth. Yeah, the 'dale was gone, whoop-de-doo. When a hurricane washed out your city or an earthquake tumbled your pretty little town did you just stand around wishing it all back? Um, no. Wishing was for wusses.

What you did was find other survivors. You band together and try to save everyone you can. And when there is no one left to save, you gather up those you have and make sure _they_ won't need saving. You get everyone someplace safe, wrap up the wounded, and try to stay alive. Then maybe you can go back and look for bodies of those who didn't make it out. You don't stand around and think about how you won't get to wear that pair of nice, expensive leather boots again. That kind of thinking could get you stuffed in a mahogany box and buried six feet under.

There were people sitting on the bus, bleeding their guts out, and all the leaders of the Scooby Gang could care to do was stand and stare at a hole in the ground? Not the greatest plan. Faith may not be the head Slayer, but she still had enough common sense to know what needed to be done. And getting the wounded to a hospital should be the priority right now. There was nothing they could do about the Hellmouth, and the others needed to realize that.

Sure, now that they were Slayers, they'd heal faster. But some of 'em were hurt pretty bad, bad enough that even Slayer healing wouldn't help them. It was either get to a hospital or die. And not everyone who'd been in the battle had the super-healing powers the Slayers did. Some of the Scoobies were regular old humans, normal people who needed medical attention. Faith figured they should hop back on Ol' Yellow behind them and head for the nearest medical center. Leave this pit and the son of a bitch demon reason for it behind them all. The First was toast, the Hellmouth was closed for good, and they could all try and find their way back to normal.

It'd be hard; Faith knew that. There was no way any of them would ever be the same. It would be difficult to try and find normality again. She had once told Angel, "the road to redemption is a rocky path." Faith felt that line could be applied to their current situation too, "the road to normal-again was just as rocky a path."

She did have to admit though, they'd totally kicked ass.


	4. Giles

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me._

**Chapter 4 – Giles**

"_We have a lot of work ahead of us."_

So this was it then, the fall of Sunnydale. It really had been quite a remarkable little town, despite it being located on a Hellmouth and its excessive demon activity. It had most definitely been an adventure to live in these past years, but still worthwhile. Though at times it had seemed hopeless, many citizens had been injured or died, and in the end had resulted in the town's destruction, on the whole their presence in Sunnydale had made a difference, a positive difference. It may be gone now, but knowing they had stopped the end of days from happening and saved the lives of many innocent people was a magnificent sentiment. And pairing that with the proud feeling that it was his Slayer that had lead them through it all just added to the mix of emotions he was feeling.

Although, it _was_ rather disconcerting, standing on the edge of the crater of where they had once lived. The idea that Spike's amulet combined with the powerful and mystical energies of the Hellmouth was able to completely obliterate Sunnydale was not a happy thought. Up until now, he had not been aware of just how much energy was flowing deep beneath the bowels of Sunnydale. Yes, all Hellmouths had strong connections to the ether and possessed unruly amounts of energy, but never before had he witnessed the full extent of that power. True, he had spent his whole life knowing about the dark forces and the power and influence they had. He had spent many years of his life studying how to stop and defeat them, but that did not stop the idea of _how_ Sunnydale had fallen from being a rather disquieting thought. Never in all his years, both as a member of and estranged from the Watcher's Council, had he heard of a Hellmouth literally being demolished from the inside out.

He had seen the Sunnydale Hellmouth at its worst, seen what demons and monsters lay beneath it and the influence of its power over both the weak and strong minded. He had seen neglected children revert to physically becoming invisible, witnessed teenagers actually self-combust due to stress, watched as people were possessed by hyena spirits, and even observed the hauntings of long-dead high school students. Giles had witnessed werewolf attacks, enchanted candy bars, demon-hunting marionettes, rampaging robots, been attacked by knights, dealt with magic spells gone awry, as well as many history displays calling upon vengeful spirits. Some were disturbing, some were frightening, some were rather poorly-crafted, and a few pathetic attempts were even a slight bit entertaining, but the remarkable powers of the Hellmouth were behind them all.

All of these and many more events had occurred due to the Hellmouth's uncontrolled power. It was un-harnessed, free to be used by whatever demon got its clawed hands on it. Elsewhere, a demon would be considered a killer and a menace if it went on a human-killing spree. But in Sunnydale, the Hellmouth could give the same demon the potential to be a mass murdering satanic beast, with the power to destroy whatever lay in its path.

And in the end, that was what drew the demons to the Hellmouth. The call of _free power and influence_ was what drew so many in; there were an infinite number of vampires, demons, and overall hellish fiends in Sunnydale because they all longed to get their hands on some of the untainted power.

Which was why there was a Slayer in town, of course.

In general, that power had been kept at bay. Yes, one or two demons had discovered it as a source to bring on the apocalypse, a few students tapped into the dark arts and developed power they wouldn't achieve elsewhere, and of course the Mayor had harnessed the mystical power to achieve his hell-bent plan of destroying them all and turned himself into a oversized snake in the process, but overall Buffy lived-up to being the protector of Sunnydale and kept the Hellmouth's power away from the creatures of the night. The power was there, but not within their grasp when she was around. And Buffy liked to keep it that way.

This, however, this destruction, it was the true embodiment of the Hellmouth's power. It went beyond anything he had ever seen. The town was a bloody hole in the ground.

The First Evil had not been kidding when it taunted them by saying, "from beneath you, it devours." They hadn't truly understood what the cryptic message was supposed to mean in the beginning, but it was assumed that The First meant the arsenal of Turok Han it was gathering underneath the school, and that they were going to "devour" the Slayer and defeat her. But now the message was clear. The maw of Hell had most undoubtedly devoured the city from the bottom up, leaving nothing save their small group alive to tell the tale.

That in itself was a miracle. It was a wonder that they weren't down there among the rubble of the town, buried knee-deep in death and destruction. The scholar in Giles told him that realistically they all should be dead; there was no probable way that they could still be alive… unless of course that probable way was, in fact, inhuman. The Powers That Be must not be finished with the Slayer and her band of demon-fighting friends, because Giles was not completely sure _how_ exactly they were all standing here. It was incredulous.

Had they really raced against the collapsing roads of Sunnydale in a school bus filled with newly activated Slayers? Not even in his rebellious teenaged years had he gone so far has to hijack a car, and in England and the U.S. combined he had never experiences anything more than a minor earthquake. Earth-shattering and ground-ripping destruction had not been on his list of to-dos, even when he was fighting alongside Buffy, where stopping the end of the world was a common occurrence.

The town was dissipated, and yet here they stood seemingly because Buffy had willed it to be so. That was often the case with the stubborn, blonde Slayer. If Buffy wasn't ready to give in then no one left the fight until she said it was over. Today's case was no different. She wasn't ready to concede defeat and give in, so it seemed that her belief in the prospect that they would defeat The First was what single-handedly allowed them to be victorious.

For so long they all had assumed their final battle would be in vain, that they would not survive their attack on The First, that there was no way to destroy it. Buffy, however, had recently come to the conclusion that they _would_ defeat it, and from that instant everything had changed. With that one belief, she had formulated an ingenious plan, lead them into battle, and they had triumphed. The young blonde really did have a way of getting things to turn out in her favour; many would go as far as to call her lucky.

But Giles, he knew it was just the way Buffy was. Whether she was lucky or not was debatable, for there had been many incidents where it seemed luck and fate were against her, such has her battles with the far-stronger cyborg Adam or the relentless Hell-goddess Glory. Buffy wasn't luck, she was just extremely determined, and they all knew that even death couldn't stop her. Death, in fact, sometimes seemed to be the easier of her many victories. Buffy simply had the resolve and the strength of mind necessary to meet her goals, no matter how outrageous or life threatening they may be. Buffy risked her life daily, and took her Slayer Calling to heart; if she wasn't ready to give in – and it was rare that Buffy _ever_ gave in – then the battle wasn't finished.

Giles knew from experience that when Buffy set her mind to something, it was hard to convince her otherwise. It was much easier to be standing alongside her than to be facing her head-on. When that happened, the unfortunate creature to try and oppose her usually ended up decapitated, disembowelled, or as vampire dust.

The Buffy he knew never lost her willpower. He had known her and been her friend, mentor and Watcher for seven long years now, and never had he seen Buffy truly give up the fight. Yes, he had seen her at her lowest of lows, seen her at her most horrible and painful moments. Yet even then there was always at least one thing she'd clung to, at least one thing she had been determined about. Whether that one thing was running away and hiding from her friends and family, concealing the truth from them that Angel was alive, protecting her sister, or merely when the two of them had disagreements in beliefs, she always had her opinion and was never afraid to voice it. How had he described her when he had first become her Watcher? Giles was pretty sure the terms strong-minded and unwavering were used more than once. He remembered many of his early entries into the Watch Diaries, wishing his young and ambitions Slayer would take her Calling as seriously as some of those before her had done. His first entry even went so far as to call her wilful and insolent, commenting on her painful grammar use and stubborn attitude towards their training schedule.

He hadn't understood then, but the things that made Buffy different from the Slayers before her were what actually allowed her to be one of, if not _the_, longest living and most successful of Slayers. She didn't focus solely on slaying and detaching herself from the real world as her Calling slowly consumed her, the way some Slayers before her had, but in contrast she didn't ignore her destiny like some of the… less successful Slayers before her had decided to do. She let the battles become a routine that was part of her everyday life, but there were still times when she did take what happened personally, and swore vengeance on a demon that had hurt someone she cared for. The right balance of _working_ and _caring_ was what allowed her to live so long in an occupation of fate where the life expectancy was only a short time after being Chosen.

As well, never before had a Slayer had such a network of support to fall back on. Buffy was one of few Slayers who did not rely exclusively on herself and her Watcher to research and to slay vampires. In those first few years at the high school Giles had disapproved of Willow, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia's interference in the Slayer lifestyle; however he soon learned how much of a valuable asset they were in times of crises or up-coming apocalypse.

Where Xander came off as laid-back, insecure, and sarcastic he made up for it in his ability to see things clearly and recognise both weakness and strength in those around him. As well, he had a gift of being able to empathise with others; he could offer comfort and support when it seemed like things were hopeless. He faced danger head-on, showing fear but not letting it get the better of him. He was a soldier, and not just because he had been literally transformed into one at Halloween. Xander had strength and fought with heart, wholly and completely.

Despite her more regal ways, Giles could safely say that Cordelia was helpful to their group when she had been in Sunnydale; she had useful research skills, was intuitive, and could sometimes offer an opinion or idea the others had overlooked. As well, though she wasn't in Sunnydale any longer, he knew she received visions from The Powers That Be and aided Angel in hunting demons in Los Angeles. He had assumed that after graduation she had tried to escape the lifestyle of killing monsters, but apparently she hadn't turned her back on it as of yet.

Oz's aloof and taciturn approach to life sometimes made him seem detached from the others, but Giles knew that the werewolf had a brilliant mind and was extremely strong-willed. He had a talent for making situations seem less drastic then they were and always managed to have a clear head when in battle. The wolf in him gave him the dedication to keep fighting as well as an incentive to never give in.

Initially, Giles had not even supported the idea of Willow helping the Slayer during Buffy's first few weeks at Sunnydale High, but like the others Willow had talents that no one else had. How many times had Willow used her technological skills to provide them with the upper-hand against a foe? Her compassion, mixed with her devotion and enthusiasm kept them going when the others lost hope. As well, though she sometimes lacked balance or control, Willow's magical abilities had blossomed into something that without, their victory count would be significantly shorter.

They may not have Buffy's extraordinary supernatural powers, or his own knowledge and history of the dark forces, but they were still able to contribute in their own way. And the network of support had grown further, incorporating Angel, Jenny, Faith, Anya, Tara, Riley, Dawn, Spike and even Andrew. All were a part of the Slayer's life now.

It was remarkable, how their ragtag group had been able to slay vampires and demons for seven long years. Although there were rough patches, they had made it through and stuck together. When Giles first arrived in Sunnydale what he had received as the Slayer had not been what he'd been expecting. Giles had anticipated a young Slayer whose previous Watcher had died; he expected her to be upset and scared, but still hard working and devoted. What he found instead was a teenager who was determined to stake vampires while still trying to, "live a normal life." Which at times meant trying to find a ways to turn a vampire into dust without messing her hair, or Heaven forbid damaging her outfit.

She was most definitely not what he had predicted her to be, that much was certain. His ideas of what the Slayer should be had been conditioned and influenced by the Council, but after spending a short amount of time with Buffy, Willow, Oz, Cordelia, and Xander those opinions had changed. He realized how valuable and necessary it was for the others to contribute, and how Buffy did need her space and could not be training and preparing every moment of the day.

He had learned quite a bit from living in Sunnydale. He'd discovered a lot about himself and about others around him that he hadn't expected to learn, and some of them he had not been willing to admit for some time either. Probably the most significant thing he'd learned however was that the Watcher's Council was out of line in it's constant interference in the Slayer's life; in both Buffy's and the lives of the girls before her.

The Council had slowly been corrupting the Slayers, using them as weapons instead of treating them like human girls. He and Buffy had detached themselves from the Watcher's Council, once it was apparent they did not agree on the terms the Council felt a Slayer should live by. Yet that hadn't stopped the Council from continuing to take young girls from their homes and preparing them for a life that could _possibly_ happen for them, training them in harsh and unnecessary ways, interfering with matters that did not involve them, and overall abusing their power to get that they desired: a demon fighting machine that could easily be replaced when necessary.

For the First Slayer, hundreds of years ago, it had been about the hunt. Hunt demons and kill them, simple and effective for her more primitive lifestyle. Buffy however was on the furthest end of the spectrum one could be, allowing herself to be a part of the community of Sunnydale as well as its secret protector. The Watcher's Council may not want the Slayer to behave _exactly_ as the First Slayer had, but it was clear they would have preferred to have control over Buffy and her affairs.

But Buffy was never good at taking orders. Giles had learned it was much easier to be her ally and friend than being the person telling her what to do.

The Slayer line had evolved over the years between the time of the First Slayer and Buffy's current rein as Slayer. At first the Slayer life had been simple: they lived, they fought evil, and then they died. Giles had read the books, many times over in fact, and he knew that there were many girls who simply faded into statistics. They accepted what was expected of them and lived by the rules laid out for them.

There were some however, whom, like Buffy and Faith, challenged the rules. There had been girls who had gone against convention and changed things for the better. It was through girls like these that the line had been able to adapt with time and evolve like the demons they were fighting. The Slayer line had always been a tightly coiled thread of power. It had been so embedded with ancient magic that it could not be unstitched or ripped to shreds. For so long it had existed but could not be altered. But now, that thread was unravelling into a vast web of newly activated Slayers.

And now there was no one to teach them and look after them, since the messenger of The First had destroyed the Watcher's Headquarters and slaughtered most of the Watchers in the process. Without guidance, the new Slayers could cause mayhem. It was up to Giles, Buffy, and the others to forage a new Council; build it into something much better than it was before.

Now, their successful ways of slaying could be passed on; into _this_ generation would they teach the Slayers how to thrive. Buffy had seen and done far more than any Slayer before her, of this Giles was sure, and they should use it to their advantage.

She had dealt with and slayed more than any Slayer Giles could think of. She had discovered that not all demons should be considered evil, something he was sure others had not taken the time to do. She had made connections and allies – human, vampire and demon alike – something which allowed for her often success. She had stopped more apocalypses than he could count on one hand. And she had died and come back, more than once, something no other Slayer had done, or possibly would do in the future.

And Giles, Willow, Xander, and Dawn had all been right there alongside her as she had done it. Their small group were the survivors, and they would be the ones to teach the new Slayers how to be successful. They would most definitely have some tough times ahead of them, for taking on the new Slayers would be a lot more work than it may appear to be, but it was necessary. They needed to teach these new girls how to fight and protect themselves.

The simple idea of a Watcher assigned to look after a Potential was no more. Now, they would need to open a school of some sort, they needed a place to live and teach these new girls how to answer their Calling. They would need physical resources; books, computers, weapons. As well, they would need human resources now that most of the Watchers dead; they would need as many allies as they could find to train these girls.

At the moment Giles was unsure how exactly they would go about teaching these new Slayers the knowledge of what it really meant to hold the power of the Slayer line, but he knew they would come up with something. They always did.


	5. Dawn

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me. And a side note for the non-history buffs; the movie _Titanic_, yeah, not owned by me. _

**Chapter 5 **–** Dawn**

"_Yeah, Buffy. What are we gonna do now?"_

Well one thing was for sure; Dawn could cross Arizona off her list of places to visit before she died. They had their own version of the Grand Canyon right here in what was formerly known as the town of Sunnydale. There was no need to see the real thing, seeing as how the image of what a massive hole in the ground would look like was spoiled forever.

It was such a shame, really. How could she go on with such an event being ruined? The image was burned into her head, never to be erased, forever to just sit there and spoil the real thing. How could her life be fulfilled now that this one dream was taken away from her? How was it possible a demon had crushed her childhood fantasy of having a Titanic moment while standing with the wind in her hair as she leaned over the railing into the massive canyon? Why would The First ruin her bucket list like that? Was it possible–?

Was it possible she could be any more sarcastic? Probably, yes. It was a question Dawn had wondered many times in her life, just how far could she push her amazing talent for teen sarcasm? But now wasn't exactly the time for that.

Presently the question was: what kind of idiots would be responsible for this amount of destruction. Yeah, sure, people vandalized desks in math class and graffiti-ed under bridges and planted bombs on subways because they felt their lives sucked and everyone else should die with them and all that lovely stuff, but _this_? Really?

Who in their right mind would try to blow up a whole city, just for kicks? Oh yeah, them, _of course_. Who else? Who else besides Buffy and her devoted Scooby Gang would feel this was a perfectly logical thing to do, even if it was for the benefit of stopping the end of the world? Who would think that, "Oooh, this evil, killer demon and king of all things evil is trying to take over the world. I know, as a solution let's blow the city up!" Yes, a completely logical response to a death threat all right. Except not, because it was only logical in the _logic-missing_ way.

Dawn was beginning to accept the possibility that Buffy had been kicked in the head one too many times by a vampire. Or maybe the whole dying and coming back to life thing happening so often was starting to cause major damage to Buffy's pretty, blonde head. What was it Willow had told her, between three and five minutes without oxygen the brain was fine, but longer than that and brain cells begin to die?

…So those "I can hold my breath longer than you can!" competitions she and Buffy had when they were younger, multiple times daily even, not such a good idea? Yes. Only adding to Buffy's damaged head? Also yes.

But minor brain damage aside, who tries to wipe out a whole town? Who tries to wipe out their _own_ whole town?

Idiots, that's who.

They were heroic idiots, yes, sacrificing their lives and all, but idiots nonetheless. They were heroic idiots who now had no place to live, because they'd happily gone and blown it up.

Brilliant. Move.

Dawn had meant it a few moments ago when she'd voiced her opinion of fighting on the wrong side. The mall had been included in the city-destroying, and being the teenager she was, that was considered a major no-no in her book; her book which was now blown to pieces because of her sister's trigger-happy fingers. Detonating the town to stop the apocalypse Dawn could relatively understand, but the mall? Really? Did Buffy honestly have to try and kill _everything_ she came in contact with?

Actually, yes. That would explain a lot about her older sister. Maybe it was some sort of gene-default-failsafe thing that only happened in Slayers, make them more efficient in vamp dusting. It would explain Buffy. And Faith… And Kendra. Buffy killing everything she touched would account for her multiple failed relationships – Angel, Spike, Riley, Angel in fact deserved his own paper on why their relation was damaged and doomed to fail from the beginning – and numerous wins against cyborgs, Hell Gods, slimy and disturbing demons, snake-monster members of parliament, and run-of-the-mill vampires. So, okay, yes, maybe her unconscious ability to kill everything was a good thing at times.

This time however it had not been such a good thing. Thanks to Buffy's brilliant plan, their home was gone. No more 1630 Revello Drive. On top of that lovely news, Dawn had realized that with their home going boom, so had their belongings. Everything they owned was blown to pieces. And now they couldn't even go and buy new things – like clothes, food, or furniture – because the mall and any other major shopping center was toast too. The town of Sunnydale: vamoose. The mall: el finito. Dawn's life as she knew it: kaboom, kaput, and kablooey.

Then again, could she really blame Buffy? They hadn't fully _known_ Sunnydale was going to cave in, had they? The plan had been to defeat The First and stop the end of the world from taking place. Closing up the Hellmouth for good had been a bonus, and no one knew Spike's amulet was going to destroy everything in the process. So Dawn couldn't truly place the fault on Buffy. Well, not _entirely_ anyway. Dawn could still hold a grudge if Buffy tried playing the "Just be happy you're alive and not down there" card.

But her sister was still paying for all of Dawn's belongings that were currently lying under the rubble of their home. Some of her things had been expensive, especially some of her shoes. Buffy could go around blowing up demon-infested buildings until the cows came home, but Dawn's stuff was off-limits to her sister's pyromaniac-like ways. Dawn wasn't supposed to touch, borrow, or break any of her sister's things, so the same rules should apply to Buffy.

This was what, the third time Buffy had caused the demolition of a school building? She had destroyed the Hermey High gym back in L.A. because, as she had told the authorities, "it was full of vampi…asbestos," and the Sunnydale High School had been detonated twice now, once to kill the Mayor when he'd turned into a giant snake and tried to eat the graduating class, ew, and just a few moments ago to destroy a non-corporal demon. And as far as Dawn knew, beings that were non-corporal and thus _didn't have a true form of their own_ could not be blown apart by dynamite, bombs, or super-powered necklaces. But they won, so why complain?

Back to the point of the matter, Buffy may have been visited by the spirit of the First Slayer and been told "death was her gift," but she was clearly taking things a smidge too far. "Death" did not have to mean "mass destruction of government property." Her sister had major issues that needed to be addressed, preferably as soon as what was physically possible.

Although, right now was probably not the greatest time for said issued to be brought up, seeing as how they were standing next to a giant crater that used to be their home. But it was sort of funny now that Dawn thought about it. The blonde Slayer claimed that her favourite weapon for killing demons was the crossbow, yet a stick of explosives or bunch of matches seemed to satisfy her just fine and dandy in Dawn's opinion. Buffy was a prime example of someone who loved their job a bit too much. That was, if "a bit" translated to "way over the top."

Buffy's combustion issues aside for the moment, there was still one dilemma that had yet to be addressed. What exactly were they supposed to _do_ with this massively gigantic hole in the ground? Sure, they were constantly able to come up with vague enough explanations for the Sunnydale authorities to believe if slaying interfered with the real world, but this one would prove to be a tad more challenging. Dawn was fairly certain Buffy wouldn't be able to pull the usual, "I'm sorry officer, I didn't see what happened" crap that was usually tried. There was clearly a very big, very noticeable crater in place of their town, and there was no way to truthfully explain what happened without all of them being committed to an institution for the mentally ill for a long, long time.

They would have to leave the explanations to Giles; he was good at that. Dawn was positive he'd be able to compose something fluffy enough to satisfy the police without giving away any true information about what had actually occurred. Maybe. Hopefully.

Damn, this really, really sucked. What were they supposed to do? Their house was gone. Their town was gone. All the things she'd even known were in bits and pieces before her. What were they going to do, where would they go? Everything that ever truly mattered had been here, and now _here_ wasn't an option anymore. Dawn had spent most of her life in Sunnydale, and suddenly she was unsure of what was going to happen now that it wasn't there anymore.

Then again, Dawn hadn't _really_ spent most of her life here. The majority of her existence had been as a little, green, glowing ball of magical energy. Only the last three years of her conscious life had she been human and living in Sunnydale. But that didn't mean she didn't have memories. They weren't real, the monks fabricated them when they'd hidden her from Glory and her minions, but they were still her memories. They were important moments in her life that she chose to remember and keep safely locked away in her head. This was still the only place she had ever considered a true home, and currently the place looked similar to what might have been the cause of the death of the dinosaurs a few billion years ago.

Her home. She knew she'd miss it, immensely so. Never again would a demon break into the house and inflict its own version of torture on them, be it locking them in the house, hiding in the walls, or simply trying to butcher them all like cows. She wouldn't be able to laugh at Xander in the aftermath of an attack on the house as he complained about how he just finished fixing that table, only put new glass in the windows last week, or could Buffy please try to spare the door next time?

She would never again find Buffy's weapons randomly lying around the house, waiting for someone to trip over them and get hurt; it had happened to Miss Kitty Fantastico, and look at how that turned out – though, Dawn really should take the blame for that one. Either way, the clutter of vamp-killing weapons was _part_ of their house, and she'd miss that.

No more were the little yellow sticky-notes on the fridge telling her that Buffy was going to be late and not to order pizza again, even though she'd go ahead and order it anyways. She wouldn't be able to come home and see Willow and her laptop buried under an infinite number of books that had claimed the dining room table. As well, she'd miss Spike's spontaneous bursts through the kitchen door, a blanket thrown hastily over his shoulders to keep him from igniting in the sunlight. Those were always fun to watch, wondering how long it would be before he noticed that part of him was in fact on fire.

She would miss the late night snacks with Buffy after she'd finished her patrol of the town's cemeteries, warehouse district and usual vamp hangouts. Those had been the relaxing times when they weren't at each other's throats; Buffy might bring a burger back from the Doublemeat Palace, or try and cook something, stress the _try_, and the two would sit down and actually have sisterly conversations. Not a completely rare occurrence, but enough that they were still important memories to Dawn.

She'd miss the nights when Willow tired to help her understand the madness that her teachers called homework, laughing as Dawn complained about how horrible it all was. She'd miss Anya randomly popping up, spending as much time at the Summers' home as her own place. She would miss Xander always managing to be there whenever there was food around. She'd miss Giles stopping by, trying to keep them focused on research whenever a new demon was in town and sighing in his British way whenever they got way off topic and begun discussing partying, pirates and puppies. She'd even miss the times Spike would look after her when Buffy was out.

Hell, Dawn even knew she was going to miss the Potentials-come-Slayers. Despite the ridiculous amount of them that had been living in the Summers' home, Dawn had grown close with almost all of them in one way or another. They were kids, just like her, suddenly thrown into this crazy battle with The First. Buffy may not be able to remember every one of their names, focusing more on keeping them alive than socializing with them, but Dawn had made it a point to try and make them all feel welcomed.

And who wouldn't want that? Sure, some of them knew about the Slayer life, but some of them were _just girls_ and had no idea what they were getting into. It must have been terrifying, Watchers and families' dead, scared and unsure while arriving in a town they had never even heard of. And then they arrive at the house, and are suddenly thrown into a dizzying spiral of battle. Dawn tried to picture how it would have looked to one of the Potentials, walking into a house were everyone was either training, planning, bleeding, fighting or lecturing. It would have been like walking into a war zone, completely overwhelming. So Dawn had tried to make friends with each of them, let them know that yes, Buffy was a little power-crazy at times, but she was only like that because she cared about them and didn't want them to die.

And they all had bonded, growing into a family. It had been nice hanging out with people generally her own age, since the Scoobies were older than her, and most of her school friends had been trickling away the last few months as people left town. Yes, they were all teenage girls, so the bitching was inevitable, but it was also like having one big sleepover. Hair braiding, soda drinking and gossiping; one big party.

And if the last few months were the party, this was waking up with the massively killer hangover. It was the hangover from Hell, literally.

Not that Dawn would know anything about hangovers.

But the Potentials had become part of the Summers' home, and she would miss them. Everyone had been crammed in that house for so long that living with so many people – living with so many teenage girls – had become normal for everyone. It had became customary to watch where she placed her feet when she got out of bed in the morning, making sure she wasn't stepping on any stray limbs of the girls in sleeping bags on the floor. It was going to be weird, wherever they ended up, not having to wait over an hour to use the washroom. It would be strange actually _having_ food in the house, since the Potentials had appetites equal to that of a Slayer. It would be almost creepy not having to go through the other girls' clothing, trying to find her own, due to the fact that laundry had been a constant nightmare.

Hands down though, the thing she'd miss most of all would be her bedroom. Sure, near the end it hadn't been hers alone. It had been a room shared by her and a number of the Potentials by then, but it was still hers. It was her sanctuary, the one place in the world that truly reflected her and her alone. She had been able to express herself there and do what she wanted.

She could tack posters to the walls, spill nail polish on the carpet, or have dirty cloths sprawled on her bed and no one could tell her otherwise. Buffy could try and tell her to clean the room, but it never really worked. If she'd wanted to she could have let the room become an image of post-tornado attack. Or she could have been super organized and kept it spotless. Instead, it was a mix of mayhem and order, or as Buffy called it, an organized mess. It didn't matter what it was called or looked like though, because it was _hers_.

That was what mattered to Dawn. It was her room and no one was allowed to tell her what to do with it. Well, to a degree anyway. There had been that one incident with the forgotten slice of pizza, and Buffy creating the resulting rule of, "No leaving food in your room, Dawn!" Other than that though, it was her freedom. Her bedroom represented her independence, something that was very important to her.

Maybe it was because she was a teenager and going through that "rebellious stage." Or maybe it was because she'd only been human for a few years, and previously had no control over anything; being a glowing ball of energy and all. Either way, the freedom her bedroom represented meant a lot to Dawn. Hopefully, wherever they ended up, she would get to have that again.

And wherever they ended up, Dawn knew she wouldn't be alone. She'd always have people looking out for her now, even if she didn't need it anymore. She may be growing up, but she wasn't growing stupid. Far from it in fact. Dawn knew she would forever have people who'd willingly jump in front of a raging vampire to protect her, and she knew she'd do the same for them, because they were family, and that's what families did. They annoyed the hell out of each other, but they were always there.

Now that she thought about it Dawn realized how lucky she was. When Buffy first found out Dawn wasn't really her sister, when her Mom found out Dawn wasn't really her biological daughter, things could have gone far worse than what had actually happened. They could have simply handed her over to Glory instead of fighting to protect her. Once her mother had died, Buffy could have kicked Dawn out, forced her to leave, and not cared what happened to her. Dawn wasn't really her sister, and Buffy had no responsibility to look after her. And neither did the others. Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Giles, and Spike – especially Spike – didn't have to act like she was part of the Scooby group, didn't have to look out for her after Buffy died.

But they had anyway. They'd accepted her, loved her, and cared for her like she really was part of the family. For that, Dawn was grateful. When the truth had finally come out that Dawn was The Key, she hadn't been sure she would still be welcomed in the Summers' home. But Buffy, being her stubborn self, didn't allow it to come to that. She had insisted they were still sisters, still family. The monks had made Dawn's human form from Buffy; they shared the same blood. And to Buffy, it seemed the bond ran even deeper than that. To her, everything they had been through, all the disaster they had faced, had made Dawn part of the family, had made Dawn and Buffy true sisters. And Buffy was never going to let Dawn forget that. They would always be family, no matter what happened.

And the Summers' family was no longer limited to Buffy and Dawn. Together, they and their friends made up their own family, every single last one of them. Her family included Willow and Xander and Giles, Faith, Kennedy, Andrew, Robin, Vi, Rona, and all the other Potentials-turned-Slayers. It contained those who weren't alive to fight the good fight anymore like her Mom, Anya, Tara, Amanda, Spike, Jenny, and Kendra. Even those who weren't in Sunnydale anymore like Angel, Oz, Cordelia, Wesley, even Riley, they all counted. They were and always would be a messed-up, demon fighting, ever-growing Scooby family.


	6. Buffy

**Formerly Known as Sunnydale**

_Disclaimer: All characters and events are owned by the genius of a man that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else has rights to them, i.e. not me. The song that Buffy makes reference to is _Chantal Kreviazuk's Weight of the World_, meaning I don't own it. Also, I don't own any _Baskin Robbins'_ ice cream flavours, mentioned in the fic or otherwise._

**Chapter 6 – Buffy**

"_Spike."_

How does someone describe nothingness? The absence of something, something nonexistent, or something that's empty? That's what all her senses were screaming at her right now. Something was missing. Something very important no longer seemed to exist. It was missing. Gone, never to come back. Poof.

Not Sunnydale. Yes, it was gone, blown to smithereens, but that wasn't the problem.

Sound. Sound was missing. It was there… and at the same time, part of it was missing.

Buffy Summers was experiencing a very strange sensation while standing on the edge of the crater. Not vertigo, it wasn't dizzying exactly, it was more like a serene calmness. She was drifting just under the surface of the water.

She could hear everything around her and hear absolutely nothing at the same time. All at once, sound and the lack of sound blended together to a simple, gentle hum in the back of her mind. It was a bizarre feeling, but not altogether a bad one. And the water analogy was a good one; it really was as if she were swimming underwater. She could hear people talking above the surface, but she could also hear the rush of the water and hear all the sounds the water was blocking out. The sounds around her were blurring, becoming cloudy and murky.

The concept of sound had taken on a whole new meaning for Buffy. It was extraordinary but also very confusing. She tried to focus solely on the voices of the people standing next to her, the voices of her friends and family as they discussed their possible options for the future, but her ears didn't seem to like the restriction. They were trying, and succeeding, to hear everything around her all at the same time. Her ears were focusing on all the sounds surrounding her as if trying to fill the gap left by the sounds that were missing.

Being forced to look at all the destruction before them had put her mind on hold. The scene she was seeing hadn't completely registered in her brain yet, so while her mind desperately tried to catch up, her ears seemed to go into overdrive. It was peaceful and calming, being able to hear everything around her, but it was off somehow. Paired with hearing usual sounds she could hear nothing, she could hear the absence of sound, and it seemed out of place.

Behind her Buffy could hear the newbie Slayers milling around the bus. Some were excited, chatting about the battle that had just transpired. They were discussing who had killed what and how many and comparing weapons and fighting techniques. Some of the girls were being humble and quiet when questioned how many vamps they'd dusted, and some were being boastful and over exaggerating. All this and more Buffy could hear. Her ears told her that the more timed girls were wondering where they would go and what would happen to them now that the battle was over, would they have to go home, or could they stay with Buffy and the others? Nervous and unsure, some were even checking to make sure none of the über-vamps had survived the cave-in of the school and followed them here to the drop-off of the cliff.

A select few even seemed unfazed by the whole thing and were trying to decide if it would be appropriate to ask if they could go try and find a fast-food place and grab a bite to eat. Typical Slayers. Forever trying to take in enough food to make up for the energy they burnt off while slaying vamps.

Mostly though, they were talking about their newfound powers. They were bona-fide Slayers now and had been victorious in their first official battle as such. There was no questioning the excitement floating in the air around them. Buffy remembered that, the jazzy feeling of accomplishment she would get after they beat the current Big Bad. The adrenalin would be filtering out of their systems pretty soon, but they'd still be energized for the next few hours. Bouncing off the bus seats and chattering their pretty little heads off. The sombre mood of death was still there, but now that the battle was over, it was becoming harder for them to contain their excitement.

Besides the talking, Buffy could hear the pain some of the new Slayers were in. Some of them were trying to be discrete about the fact that they were badly hurt. The injured ones were still on the bus, and Buffy could hear them letting out a curse or sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as their wounds were cleaned and bandaged. Others, rightly so, weren't so discrete and were crying out in pain as their injuries were looked at. But even the ones who were seriously hurt were buzzing with energy and Buffy could feel it. The Slayer connection she had only truly shared with Faith was now bonding her to the other girls around her. Their excitement was weaving its way to her, making her almost dizzy with it.

Next to her, she could hear her friends discussing their formidable future. Everyone was a little directionless right now; they were unsure of what to do and the seemed to be waiting for her to say something. She was the leader after all, she was expected to, you know, lead, at a time like this. Buy Buffy was just as lost as they were, was just as baffled as they were by the canyon before them. She listened as they spoke about what had been destroyed in the battle, what they were going to do with the new Slayers, and where they were going to go now that Sunnydale was gone. Laced in with the words being spoken Buffy could hear the fear, sadness, excitement, and anticipation in their voices.

All around her the voices of the people she knew and cared for were mixing, coming together in a rich blend of sound. Like bizarre ingredients being thrown in the blender when Dawn was experimenting with cooking again, voices, new and familiar, seemed to float through the air and come to a stop before Buffy, letting her hear them all at once. The blender wasn't turned on yet, it wasn't spinning the voices into an endless and confusing cycle, the sounds were just being poured in, preparing for the dizziness that was sure to ensue.

But the sounds didn't stop there; there were also things she couldn't hear.

Buffy couldn't hear the hum of cars on the road, the sound of children laughing, birds calling, dogs barking, or people talking as they walked down the street. She couldn't hear school bells sounding, babies crying, or phones ringing. She couldn't hear car alarms blaring, motorcycles humming, or even the jingle that signalled the ice cream truck.

Those sounds had slowly been disappearing as The First began its assault on the town, fading away as more and more people left for someplace safer. It was only now however, that Buffy actually register the missing noises. She had been to busy trying to protect the Potentials to take the time to actually _listen _as Sunnydale turned into a ghost town around her. But now she was listening, and realized that all the sounds that had identified this place as Sunnydale, California weren't there anymore.

What was left in their place was a rather large, ugly hole in the ground.

That was what was bothering Buffy. Not the fact that her home had vanished for good, but that what was left in its place was completely silent, totally lacking in sound. It was weird, hearing the voices of the people around her but nothing after that; hearing absolutely nothing in the distance. She pushed her senses, reaching out as far as she could, but there was nothing to hear. The desert, the highway, and the crater around them made no inkling of sound. So aside from their small group on the edge of the crater, there was no noise; the world was a TV on mute.

As her friends continued to discuss their options, Buffy felt her mind begin to wonder. It had given up trying to process what she was seeing, and now was just drifting off on its own. Little things popped into her head, random memories and images of what was gone forever. The image of the great tree in the front yard, a memory of Dawn making breakfast the first day of summer after Buffy had graduated high school, unpacking her things from numerous boxes the day they moved in. The painting her mother had brought back from the gallery she worked at – the one with the little red and blue smudges, the memory of the first time Xander and Willow had come over to work on a school project, even the precious memory of standing on the hill with Angel as snow fell for the first time in Sunnydale; these and many more recollections of her old life drifted through her mind.

Her home was destroyed, and yet… she actually wasn't that upset about it. Sure, the house, her belongings, the whole town, it had all gone poof, but she couldn't bring herself to feel that depressed. To her, those things were no longer important.

They won.

That was all that mattered. Those were the words that passively floated through her head over and over again – they won. So what if the place was abandoned, so what the town had vanished, so what if everything they had known was buried under the rubble of collapsed homes. They beat The First. They _beat _the freaking _First Evil_. To Buffy, those lost materials possessions had been just that, material possessions: supplies, equipment, things they'd spent money on; they could all be replaced. She was alive. Most of her friends were alive. And they had won, plain and simple. If she wasn't stuck in this numb state, Buffy knew she'd be jumping and cheering right about now. They won.

It did feel weird though. She could see the others reflecting on what was once Sunnydale. She could see the pain in their eyes as the realization that they would never be able to go home again caught up with them. But Buffy didn't feel the same. She felt detached from her friends somehow, separated from them. She knew she should be upset, devastated even, but she wasn't. She was just… calm. The storm was over, the rainbow was coming out, and the sea was tranquil and still around her. That's what she was.

They won. And on top of that, they weren't alone and never would be again. The idea of the Scooby Gang being just a small group of friends trying to keep their town safe had gone out the window with Sunnydale. Now there were Slayers, _plural_. Not one Slayer, not two, but many. Now there were multiple girls Chosen to defend the world. She and Faith together had been powerful, but existing as the sole Slayer at the same they had been an accident; there was only supposed to be one. But now… Willow's spell had changed that. Now, they had an army.

An army of small, frightened, untrained, teenaged girls with superpowers, but it was still an army. The Scooby Gang wasn't alone in the fight against the forces of darkness anymore. And that was an amazing feeling.

For so long Buffy and her friends had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. Now though, they could share the burden, pass on their knowledge, and teach these new girls how to fight evil and how to win doing it. These new Slayers could take over.

She was finally free of the dual gift and burden of being the Chosen One, free to be Buffy. She didn't have to be "Save the World Slayer" Buffy anymore. She could be "Plain and Normal" Buffy, the one she had been striving to be for so long.

And standing there, looking out over the mess and ruins of Sunnydale, Buffy realized who that was. After years of wondering and searching, she had finally discovered who Normal Buffy was.

The new Slayers could take over, yes, but Buffy wasn't going to disappear and fade into the background, not by a long shot. She was going to stay right there, on the front lines, kicking major demon ass alongside anyone willing to fight. She finally realized that "Normal" Buffy _was_ "Slayer" Buffy. She'd spent so much time complaining about how she could never be a normal girl or have a normal life, when in fact this _was_ normal. For her, the days where she _wasn't_ out staking vampires were the abnormal ones. Evenings when she wasn't able to go out and patrol the cemeteries felt strange and unfulfilling. This was her Calling. She could never be anything but the Slayer.

And she was okay with that, because as of right now there were others to help. If she wanted to she could take a vacation for a few days, have some relaxation and downtime all to herself. And she wouldn't feel guilty about it, wouldn't feel like she was abandoning her job as the Slayer, because she wasn't the only one destined to save the world anymore. Once properly trained, there would be other Slayers to help, other Slayers to share the load. Together.

It felt amazing to know that she finally had that. Buffy and her small group of friends had been alone for so long, it was nice to simply stand there and _breathe_ for once. It felt good to be able to pause for a minute from all the on-going action in her life. She didn't need to mourn over the loss of Sunnydale, because that was just a small piece of the big picture. It was the one missing bit of cardboard of a thousand-piece puzzle; it wasn't there, but they didn't need it because they could still tell what the bigger picture was. They'd lost something, but they'd gained so much more.

Absently, the lyrics to a song came to mind. Buffy couldn't remember the name of the singer or the name of the song. They were merely a few words that described her situation perfectly, _I used to carry the weight of the world, and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly._

Fly. Spread her wings and fly. There was blue sky stretching to infinity around her, and she wanted to fly in it. She wanted to bask in the sunlight and float on the light breeze. The blue sky was calling her, drawing her in. She wanted to relax in the calm she was feeling right now. Finally, she could take a big, deep breath and slow down. She could let herself unwind, because the world was still there, would still be there tomorrow, and for now, that was all that mattered.

"_Yeah, Buffy. What are we gonna do now?" _

The blonde Slayer smiled slightly at her sister's question. It didn't matter to her what they did, as long as they were in it together and no longer alone in the fight. Buffy didn't care where they went or who made the decisions. At the moment, she was just along for the ride.

Though, there was one tiny thing thought that came to mind with Dawn's question. Buffy wasn't sure where the thought came from, or even why or how she came up with it, but she wasn't going to dwell on it. For some reason, her subconscious asked for this one simple thing, and she was happy to oblige. Or try to anyway; Buffy wasn't sure where she would be able to find what she was looking for. But hey, they had the whole world in front of them now. Surely they'd find a stop on the way of wherever they were going and to be able to satisfy her unexplained desire.

What Buffy wanted was ice cream. She wanted to sit down and have herself a nice, big bowl of frozen, creamy goodness.

Maybe something simple, like Vanilla or Strawberry. Or maybe she wanted something extra sweet, like Chocolate Mocha or Peanut Butter and Fudge. Or she could try something more extreme, like Pink Bubblegum or Orange Lemon Twist. Or those Rainbow Sherbet flavours always looked neat, with swirls of colour and sprinkles. Or she could simply go with something more traditional, like Pralines and Cream, Toffee and Caramel, Mint Chocolate Chip, Cookies and Cream, Cotton Candy, or Vanilla and Blue Raspberry.

No Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream though, Buffy was certain about that. After the whole awkward analogy-thing with Angel about how she was cookie dough that wasn't finished baking and didn't know what she was going to turn out to be, Buffy was sure that she wouldn't be able to eat _any_ form of cookie dough for a long, long while.

But aside from that, the possibilities were endless. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted some.

And those possibilities didn't stop with flavour. She hadn't had ice cream in a long time, so if she was going to have some then of course she was going to go all out. Not only would she have to decide on what type of ice cream she would indulge in, but then there was the question of toppings. There was chocolate, hot fudge, caramel or strawberry syrup to drizzle on top. Would she have fluffy whipped cream too, with a maraschino cherry? Candy sprinkles, chocolate chips… or a combination of both? Or there were cookie crumbles, roasted almonds, peanuts, or chocolate shavings.

And where would she put it? Probably the second hardest decision when planning an ice cream treat: "would you like it in a cup or a cone?" And if you pick cone, what kind? A regular, waffle or sugar cone? Too many choices.

It was beginning to hurt her head, thinking about all the decisions that went along with having ice cream. Maybe instead of finding an ice cream parlour she'd be better off in the frozen section of a store, picking the first container that jumped out at her. That would eliminate quite a few of the decisions. Buffy wasn't always great when it came to decisions.

Although, if this were the case, she'd have to be sneaky about it. She didn't want to have to share her cold and tasty treat with any of the newbie Slayers. Or Faith. Faith was notorious for stealing food.

So, decision somewhat made then. Someone _else_ would decide where to go, that part didn't really matter. Giles would probably suggest finding either a hospital to treat the wounded or a motel to stay for the next few days, until they came up with a real plan. And once they were on the road and going somewhere the new Slayers would start complaining about bathroom breaks and wanting to satisfy the munchies. Then they'd have stop at a service station, and Buffy would somehow manage to find herself some money to pay for the aforementioned ice cream. It was a partially-flawed plan, but that was okay. As long as Buffy got her ice cream.

There was no real reason for Buffy's sudden desire for ice cream. Simply put, she hadn't had ice cream in a while and she wanted some. Maybe it was because she felt so happy, so relaxed, and yet so energized after the battle. She was so mentally exhausted that her brain was throwing random thoughts at her because she wasn't sure what she really wanted, and this was the best her brain could come up with.

Buffy was just so happy they had won, that it didn't really matter to her what happened now. She merely wanted one moment of normalness before diving headfirst back into the Slayer life again. She wanted a single moment of calm before they began the difficult task of training the newbie Slayers.

To Buffy, her desire for ice cream was completely rational and justified. Her brain had been in overdrive for so long, that when she suddenly didn't need to be planning how to defeat The First she wasn't quite sure what to think or what she wanted to do. No matter though, they had all the time in the world to figure out what she wanted now that Sunnydale was no more.

For the moment however, she'd follow her own advice. Pause, take a deep breath, and sit down to have some ice cream.

_Fin._


End file.
